


mask up

by Quillium



Series: spideytorch week 2k19 [1]
Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: I say that's the pairing, M/M, Royalty AU, Spideytorch Week 2019, but honestly it's like... pre-relationship stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 19:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19933300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillium/pseuds/Quillium
Summary: “It’s pointless,” Johnny pops a strawberry in his mouth, “They could have replaced the prince with a doppelgänger, if they were smart. Or the prince could have skipped. Actually, I should skip. There’s no point in me being here. You want to join me?”





	mask up

“You do realize this is a masquerade ball?” Johnny sidles up to the photographer by the snack table, “The whole point of it is that all identities are secret.”

“I’m not here for the royal family,” the photography adjusts his bright red mask, self-consciously skittering his fingers along the edges, “I’m just here to report on the ball.”

“Sounds boring.”

“It’s a lovely ball.”

“It’s pointless,” Johnny pops a strawberry in his mouth, “They could have replaced the prince with a doppelgänger, if they were smart. Or the prince could have skipped. Actually, _I_ should skip. There’s no point in me being here. You want to join me?”

“My job—“

“Is to, what, photograph a bunch of people dancing in expensive outfits? That’s not going to change in the time we’re gone. And we can go to other parts of the palace. You can get an exclusive behind-the-scenes in the kitchens.”

“I’m not sure that’s allowed, flame head.”

“Did you just insult my mask? You did, didn’t you? When you have that dumb red—what is that supposed to be? A mosquito?”

“A _spider_.”

“That’s ominous as fuck. Are you here to assassinate someone?”

“ _No_!”

“Good, I don’t like seeing dead people. Kitchen?”

“I’d rather not get yelled at by my boss, and like I said, I don’t think the kitchens are allowed—“

“You really want to stay here? Write a fluffy bit on how King Richards and Queen Sue are so lovely and great and spent all this money on something pointless?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I’m going to the kitchen. They have macarons there.”

He waits, and, there, the sound of shoes tapping against the smooth ballroom floor as the photographer grumbles, “I may as well make sure you don’t get in trouble.”

“I won’t,” Johnny grins, “Just watch me.”

“I’m not sure I want to. You seem like a train wreck just waiting to happen.”

“I resent that.”

“You resemble that, you mean.”

“How _dare_ you.”

The photographer lifts his camera, and before Johnny can react, snaps a quick shot. He laughs and holds out his camera. Johnny scowls at the photo, his nose scrunched, chocolate on the edges of his lips.

“Delete that.”

“I think it looks nice.”

“You clearly have no taste. How did you get this job?”

“I get—exclusive opportunities with my other job.”

“You have two jobs? Ugh.”

“I suppose a stuffy noble wouldn’t know,” the photographer frowns as Johnny pops into the kitchen, “I really don’t think—“

“Hey, all,” Johnny winks at the kitchen staff, “Heard there were cookies here.”

The head chef rolls her eyes indulgently, “And I heard they were meant to go to the guests of this fine ball, not some fool who rolls into the kitchen unannounced.”

“Come on, you have a batch for me.”

“The white chocolate chips, cooling in the corner,” she jerks her chin.

The photographer frowns as he follows after Johnny, “What—“

“I got us some cookies,” Johnny beams, “Eat with me?”

“ _How_?”

“I’m a marvel,” Johnny piles the cookies up onto a plate and moves out the service door into the gardens, “Snap a few shots and then come to me for cookies.”

There’s a moment as the photographer takes his shots and then the swing of the door as he follows Johnny outside. “Are you insane?”

“Possibly,” Johnny licks his fingers, “Cookies?”

The photographer sighs and takes one.

“What exactly do I call you?” Johnny wiggles his toes, “You have a name?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you or not.”

“Then I’ll call you Spider-man.”

“Please don’t.”

“Tell me your name.”

“How about I call you flame head.”

“Hey, no. You can call me—Torch.”

“Flame head it is.”

“Oi, Spider-man’s not so terrible a name!”

“It really is.”

“It isn’t.”

“I suppose your taste in names is just as terrible as your taste in fashion.”

“I am offended. So offended.”

“Good. With a mask like that, you should be. I’m only telling the truth here.”

“You hurt me, Spider-man.”

“That’s too bad for you,” Spider-man raises his eyebrows, “It seems you can’t handle the truth.”

“Yes I—oi!”

Spider-man laughs, and Johnny hates these stupid balls, but he thinks this one might be alright.

__

“A bodyguard?” Johnny groans, flopping over Sue as she accepts the tray of cookies from their kitchen help, “What for?”

“There were rumours of an assassin floating around,” Sue kisses his cheek, “We just want to be safe.”

“I don’t need a muscly stick-in-the-mud following me around.”

“Then we’ll be fine,” the kitchen help smiles.

Wait.

What.

Sue sighs, “Allow me to introduce you to your new bodyguard, Johnny. Meet Peter Parker.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” Parker smiles thinly, “There’s a week until the next masquerade ball. Hopefully we’ll have settled this matter by then.”

“I hope so,” Johnny tilts his head back and groans, “I’ve got a boy to meet.”

“What a coincidence,” Parker’s grin grows a bit more relaxed, “So do I.”

__

Parker, Johnny quickly realizes, isn’t so bad. How does he realize this, you ask? It’s very simple.

“Can you do a flip?”

“Can you die?”

“Is that a no?”

“I’m not your entertainer.”

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks right now if you can do a backflip.”

“A hundred for every flip I do?”

“Sure,” Johnny smirks, “Why not?”

Parker does ten backflips in a row.

__

“You know,” Johnny says conversationally, “The other dude isn’t as cool as you.”

“Other dude?” Parker squints at him, “You replacing me with another bodyguard?”

“No, no. The dude who takes over while you’re showering and stuff. He’s usually part of Reed’s protection squad.”

“Oh. Well, obviously. I’m awesome.”

“Sure,” Johnny leans forward, “You know, since you’re so cool, maybe you could do another backflip—“

Parker laughs and shoves Johnny off the couch.

__

“How’s progress on the assassin?”

“How’s progress on not looking like a doofus?”

“You know, tons of girls think I’m sexy.”

Parker snorts, “Their mistake.”

“Progress on the assassin?”

Parker laughs, a bit hysterical.

__

“Dude! That’s my lunch!”

“Taste-testing,” Parker says innocently as he goes in for a second helping of Johnny’s lunch. “Mm, this sushi is really good. Mind if I eat the rest? No? Thanks.”

“Wait—what, no—“

“Just doing my duty,” Parker winks, and there, right in front of Johnny, puts _another piece of sushi in his mouth_.

“You’re terrible,” Johnny hisses.

“You love me,” Parker agrees brightly.

__

“No progress on the assassin, then?” Johnny scowls as Sue goes over how to behave at the ball.

“We’ve had progress,” Sue smiles cheerfully, “And we think the best way is to draw them out in public?”

“In public? Wait. You’re using me as—“

“Bait, yeah, yeah,” Parker grins, “There’s gotta be something that mug of yours is useful for.”

“This handsome mug?”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Parker rolls his shoulders, “I’ll be in disguise, pretending I’m working for my other job.”

“Your other job?”

“I work for the news.”

“Oh, you’re a rat?”

“Careful who you’re calling a rat,” Parker shoves Johnny, “This rat writes news on you, darling prince.”

“Sure,” Johnny raises his eyebrows, “Whatever you say.”

__

“Flame head?” Parker groans, “Of course you’re the dumb prince.”

“Excuse you, Spider-brain,” Johnny huffs, “I thought you were an assassin.”

“I’m here to catch one,” Parker adjusts his mask, sticks out his tongue, “So close enough.”

“Right,” Johnny examines his nails, “Bet you a hundred dollars I catch the assassin before you do.”

“That’s so dumb. This is literally my job.”

“Coward?”

Parker glowers at him in the mirror, “I’ll take the bet.”

__

Parker wins.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing romance continues to elude me.


End file.
